


pieces of a dream

by scepticallyopenminded



Series: 30 Day Lyrics Challenge - 2017 [7]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, POV Niall, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 21:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12944304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepticallyopenminded/pseuds/scepticallyopenminded
Summary: Just himself, and everything seems echo-y and the place is large, but it isn’t a freaking mansion. That doesn’t stop it from feeling like it is when it’s like this, just Niall brushing his teeth at a double sink in the master bathroom, memory still fresh with images of another man standing opposite him, eyebrows raised and smirk firmly in place, gargling Listerine and it’s all so domestic and Niall aches.





	pieces of a dream

**Author's Note:**

> from Anastacia's Pieces of a Dream:
> 
> "And I could see it clearly once when you were here with me/And now somehow all that's left are pieces of a dream"
> 
> Have a little sad Narry in your life.

Waking up these days is – harder than Niall ever anticipated it would be.

It isn’t that he hates his life, because that would be near impossible. He gets to do things he only dreamed of getting to do when he was younger. He writes music and plays for huge crowds and he’s an _artist_ , through and through. There was a point in his life when he thought he would always be living at home, so doing what he is doing now is absolutely stunning to him.

But that doesn’t make waking up any easier.

Because when he wakes up he realizes that his bed is too big – that his _house_ is too big. When he bought this place he’d had a very particular picture in his mind of him and _Harry_ , and now he has to live each day in and out with just him.

Just himself, and everything seems echo-y and the place is large, but it isn’t a freaking mansion. That doesn’t stop it from _feeling_ like it is when it’s like this, just Niall brushing his teeth at a double sink in the master bathroom, memory still fresh with images of another man standing opposite him, eyebrows raised and smirk firmly in place, gargling Listerine and it’s all so domestic and Niall _aches_.

At least when he’s asleep he can pretend that everything’s okay; that they’re still together, still talking about their future together like they’ll never be apart and that’s what he always felt like; that they never _would_ be apart, that they’d always have each other to come home to and to lean on. At least when he’s asleep, that’s still true.

It’s the first fifteen seconds that are the worst, when he wakes up after a pleasant dream with a smile on his face and reaches over to the other side of his bed and then remembers, coldly, that he’s not there.

It hurts when Niall wanders through the house, sees his awards sitting on a shelf in his dining room and there’s too much space and sometimes it makes him feel cocky, like he’s _expecting_ more when in actuality when he’d installed that shelving unit it had been so that they could display their victories _together_ , and it hurts when he accidentally opens the wrong drawer in his dresser and sees the three shirts and bottle of cologne Harry’d forgotten when he’d left, and it hurts when Niall is going through his DVR trying to find a match to watch and sees that dumb baking show that was (probably still _is_ ) Harry’s guilty pleasure.

Maybe he should delete those shows, maybe he should throw away the shirts and cologne, maybe he should find a new shelving unit that’s just big enough for him, but then he’d have to admit something to himself.

That he’s over Harry, and he’s very clearly not.

It’s been a year, and that’s probably the worst part. It’s been a _year_ , and Niall still _pines_ , wishes there was something he could say or do that would get the fucking _love of his life_ back, but he knows there’s not. Sometimes, people just don’t work out, can’t work out for a variety of reasons, and they’re those people. It’s not happening, and that _hurts_.

And sometimes he’ll stand in his kitchen, making stir fry or chicken alfredo and remember the times he stood at the stove doing just that while Harry sat at the bar, flipping through his phone and telling Niall the latest stories, or talking about how their writing was going, or just gently teasing each other about shit. They were closer than they ever had been; Harry had his own properties, but he spent the majority of his free time at Niall’s and they were on the edge of full-time living together and Niall – he’d wonders, desperately these days, what Harry would have said if he’d asked Harry to marry him.

He thinks the answer would have been yes. He thinks that the answer might still be, if he shows up at Harry’s door unannounced and just asks.

But he respects Harry too much to do that. Respects that when Harry left, he did it for a reason. And maybe Niall doesn’t fully understand that reason, can never completely comprehend it, but he respects it.

Harry wants something he _doesn’t_ have to hide. And it helped that they were both private people; Niall prides himself on being able to keep people and the media out of his private life, and Harry has carefully honed skills at revealing only exactly as much about himself as he wants at any point and avoiding the press whenever he really doesn’t want to be photographed. So they probably could have kept themselves secret for however long it took for them to both be willing and able to come forward.

But after over three years, it was taking its toll. And Niall doesn’t blame Harry for his decision; it was taking its toll on _him_ , too. It’s rough to try to keep rumours from flying, and near every rumour had at least a small grain of truth to it. But they’d had to keep _them_ a secret, and were strongly advised to even after they’d left their old management.

Niall doesn’t blame Harry because Harry had the guts to do what had to be done. The relationship wasn’t good for either of them, but it’s hard for Niall to admit that, even to himself. Even to his closest friends. Even now. Because even now, Niall _misses_ him so desperately, he’s more than willing to try again. Even if it kills them both.

It won’t happen, though, and so when Niall wakes up, turning over to find the other side of the bed cold and unused, he just closes his eyes again, huddles back down in his bed and prays for sleep to take him to his dreamland again.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [asocialfoxpaw](http://asocialfoxpaw.tumblr.com)


End file.
